


Darling's Theory by Sabra Lindburg

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little too much wine  and Naomi's encouragement get Jim to call Blair darlin'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darling's Theory by Sabra Lindburg

NEWBIE ALERT - NEWBIE ALERT - NEWBIE ALERT Now that you've been duly warned(g): 

Disclaimer: The Sentinel, Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg and Naomi Sandburg are the property of UPN, Pet Fly Productions, etc. The story is mine. 

WARNING: NC-17, m/m 

Many thanks to the two J's, for willingly taking part in my auditory hallucination that Jim actually called Blair "Darlin'" in "Ice Man". (Hey, I hear what I wanna hear!) 

This story is dedicated to Sherry, for playing Muse for me. She planted the seed by pointing out that Jim would have to be drunk to call anyone "Darlin'", and provided a much needed change of scenery. Sorry you had to wait so long for this, S! 

Additional thanks to these three wonderful friends for beta- reading; this is a better story for their efforts. Any remaining faults belong to yours truly. 

Comments, good or bad, and suggestions are encouraged. 

## Darling's Theory of Evolution

by Sabra Lindburg  


"Next we'll have some esophagus." 

//*Esophagus?!* Oh, man! Are you gonna be sorry tomorrow, Jim. This is *so* not you!// Blair thought, trying to ignore the intense stab of jealousy he had felt, arriving home to find Jim and Naomi lounging on Jim's bed, obviously enjoying themselves. 

In the two years he had known Jim, Blair had never seen the Big Guy so uninhibited. I mean, was this the same guy who had lectured him about leaving things lying all over the house, who had insisted on color-coded tupperware? This vision of bliss, sprawled on that football field sized bed, eating tongue, drinking wine, and laughing over pictures of himself with his -- *his* -- mother? 

Blair took a moment to feel his anger, process it, then let it go, as Naomi had taught him. The green-eyed monster took a back seat for the moment, and Blair was able to graciously accept the glass of wine Naomi held out to him. She moved over, closer to Jim, and patted the edge of the bed next to her. 

"Here sweetie, sit down and join us. I was just telling Jim about your Nixon phase," Naomi said. 

Blair looked up to find Jim gazing at him with the goofiest grin he had ever seen plastered across the rugged face. It was incredible, the way that well known visage was transformed from its usual hard planes and angles, to something softer, more - 

//Oh Blair, don't head in that direction, man. Not now. Jeez, Naomi is sitting right next to you, man. Getta grip!// Blair was confused by this sudden modest streak; he was not normally so self-conscious in front of his mother. What was the difference here? Blair looked down at the glass in his hand, his face flushed. 

Naomi either did not notice the exchange, or she tactfully ignored it, chattering away about another of Blair's exploits as a child. When Blair happened to dart another look in Jim's direction, he shivered at what he saw. 

Jim's lids had fallen to half mast over eyes that could only be described as smoldering, and the barest of smiles graced his lips. And all of it was aimed directly at Blair, Naomi's stories forgotten for the moment. Blair was lost completely. 

Naomi, realizing her audience was otherwise occupied, diplomatically looked for a way to excuse herself and leave the two of them to themselves. 

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm famished. I'm going to go downstairs and start putting together that three bean casserole I told you about, Jim," she said, closing the photo album and maneuvering around her son to exit the bed and make her way down the stairs. "I'll make a vegetarian out of you yet!" she concluded from the kitchen. 

Neither man answered; both still locked in a gaze that could have caused the entire Arctic to melt. //Sure Mom// Blair thought absently, with the one still functioning part of his brain. 

"Mom?!?" he squeaked. Blair fairly leaped out of the bed and almost fell down the stairs. "Ah, Mom, let me help you with that. I mean, you're the guest here, and all. You should be relaxing, resting up for your big drive tomorrow," Blair babbled, moving about the kitchen in an agitated manner, sorting through pots and pans. 

Naomi walked over to her son and put a hand on his shoulder to turn him around, facing her. "Oh, Blair, you've nothing to be embarrassed about. I caught the vibes between you and Jim from almost the first time I saw the two of you together. Both of you do such a good job trying to bury them, but they're there. I think it's beautiful. I admit, I had some negative feelings about the whole," she paused, visibly deciding against the word 'pig', "police issue. But I've processed all of that now. I think Jim is a very special person, and I see great things for the two of you. I'm so very happy for you." 

Until this point, Blair had been staring wide-eyed at his mother, slowly taking in all she was saying and beginning to apply it to the confusion in his own mind. "Naomi," Blair began, his use of her first name indicating to her the importance of what he was about to say. "I don't want to go there, right now. This is too new for me. I mean, I only just realized. I don't know how he feels about this...if there even *is* a 'this'. I don't even know how *I* feel about it. Can we just drop it, please? I need some down time to think this all through. It's too much at the moment." 

Naomi drew him into a firm hug, and stroked the back of his hair soothingly. "I know, sweetie," she whispered in his ear. "But trust Mom on this one. He feels the same way. The vibes are just so intense. Now don't you worry about me here tonight. I'm sleeping in your room, remember? As far as you're concerned, I'm not even here. Okay?" 

Blair pulled away abruptly. "Mo-om!" he dragged the word out to two syllables. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you. So much for free and uninhibited, eh?" He caught her hand as she turned back to dinner preparation. "Mom, I -- I want to say, thank you. For understanding and for trying to help me understand as well. It means a lot to me." 

Naomi looked at Blair, smiled that blinding smile of hers, then hugged him fiercely, but briefly. They both set about fixing dinner.  
  


* * *

  


The two Sandburgs were so engrossed in their culinary handiwork, that they temporarily forgot that the subject of their recent discussion was still up in the loft. Blair had also forgotten that Jim's sense of hearing rendered no place in the entire condo private. Jim had heard the whole conversation between mother and son, and was currently lying back on his bed contemplating what he had heard. 

//Just what kind of "vibes" are we giving out? Is it that obvious? Has anyone else noticed? Why haven't I picked up on this before? So much for heightened senses.// Jim put his hands up over his eyes in a feeble attempt to block his senses and concentrate on his thoughts, but the alcohol was making it difficult. 

//Ellison, you used to be able to hold your alcohol better than this! Now think! What are you going to do about this?// He centered all of his thoughts on Blair, hoping the concentration would help focus his thinking. 

//Hmmm. Blair. What precisely are your feelings there, Jim? There's no denying that there is an attraction. Naomi was right and you know it. But where did it come from? I mean, I didn't just sit down one day and decide I was going to fall in love with my partner...// 

The 'L' word gave Jim pause. He examined it from all angles, and it still came up the same. He did love Blair, and was quite possibly falling *in* love with the man. In his present state, Jim found that he wanted to analyze the situation in agonizing detail, with all of the persistence of the intoxicated. He needed to pinpoint the exact moment when he had come to this unconscious decision, but like any good drunk, he lacked the ability to explore the issue with the complexity it deserved. 

The more he pondered, the simpler it became to Jim. There was no defining event that had led to his feeling this way. It was a combination of everything that had happened between the two of them, starting with that first meeting with Blair playing doctor and ending with Jim lying on his bed, pleasantly buzzed and wondering when he had become so totally attuned to this one person that other people could notice. The feelings had crept up on him, invading and pervading, just as Blair had slowly but thoroughly insinuated himself into Jim's world until Jim honestly could not imagine a life that did not also include his 'neo-hippie witchdoctor punk'. 

Jim felt absurdly proud of himself and his insights into the matter, and celebrated by having another glass of wine. By the time he heard Blair call him down to dinner, Jim had knocked back several glasses and was considering another. 

But Blair - *his* Blair - was calling, and Jim had to answer the call. He was able to push himself up off of the bed, but it took much longer than usual to find his center of balance. Walking proved to be another challenge. Just as he had mastered that skill, he was presented with obstacle of the staircase. He placed a death-grip on the railing, directed his list toward the wall and managed to walk down the stairs with competence, if not grace. 

Jim's next goal was to cross the floor to the dining room table and sit down without totally disgracing himself. He lucked out, as the Sandburgs were still gathering up dinner-related items from the kitchen. Neither one noticed as Jim had to brace himself on the table in order to take his seat. 

He was momentarily startled, not recognizing his table for the brightly striped cloth someone had placed over it. He suspected Naomi, but the cloth looked to be a remnant of one of Blair's expeditions. 

Naomi breezed in carrying the casserole dish. "Oh, there you are. We were just getting ready to send out a search party!" She patted his arm lightly on her way to her own chair. 

Her son approached the table, almost gawking at Jim. "Hey man, you're looking a little rough. You sure you're okay?" he said, smiling. 

"'M fine, Sandb-, er, Blair," Jim insisted, not entirely certain he liked that mocking little smile on his partner's face, no matter *what* thoughts he had been entertaining upstairs. 

"Good," said Naomi, as always trying to defuse any negative situation. "I hope we're all hungry." 

"And thirsty," Blair added, plunking down another bottle of wine and taking a seat directly across the table from Jim. Jim's eyes glazed over momentarily at the sight of the bottle, prompting a note of concern from Blair. "Are you sure you're all right, man? There's some juice in the fridge, if you'd rather..," he offered. 

In his current condition, Jim was not prepared to take Blair's offer of juice gracefully. In the fine tradition of thwarted drunks everywhere, Jim was ready to defend his drinking prowess with belligerence. But his unfounded anger at Blair's suggestion was instantly dissolved by the look of genuine concern on his Guide's face. "No, Blair. Wine is fine by me." 

Blair's look turned from concern to puzzlement, but Jim was not really noticing. This may have seemed strange to anyone else in the room had they known, as Jim was studying his partner's face intently, lingering over each feature and seeing it in a new light of love. Jim barely registered Naomi's presence as she served him his dinner. 

When Blair, after receiving his own portion, bent down over it, almost hiding his face in the plate, Jim snapped out of his reverie, and noticed his own dinner for the first time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Naomi glance first at himself then at Blair, and Jim realized he had made a spectacle of himself again. He concentrated on his meal, anything to keep him from locking onto Blair again. 

Blair seemed unnaturally quiet, and Jim, in his current condition, was loathe to open his mouth and attempt conversation. Naomi took pity on the two, and started up a stream of insignificant chatter to ease the tension in the room. She soon coaxed her son out of hiding, and the two were off and flying about some of Blair's more interesting research projects and Naomi's involvement. 

Jim appreciated the diversion at first, but as time went on, he felt, irrationally, that he was being excluded from the conversation. Blair and Naomi both made an obvious effort to include Jim, but his present state of intoxication was preventing Jim from seeing this. He sank deeper and deeper into his funk with every shared, "Do you remember the time..." 

He knew that he had no reason to be jealous of Blair and his mother, but something ugly deep down inside felt just that. Jim did not want Blair to have a history that did not also include himself, and he felt cheated by the fact that mother and son had had so many adventures together. But self pity was not one of Jim's strong points, so he began to look for ways to divert his attention from his simmering anger. 

He heard Blair shift his feet under the table, and hit upon the perfect idea. Thanking whichever Sandburg had been responsible for the table cloth, Jim innocently shifted back in his seat, stretching his legs out a fraction towards the feet of the person opposite him. Blair shifted his foot back when Jim made contact, continuing the current discussion about fieldwork in some Latin American country or another; Jim was much too distracted to remember details. 

Following Blair's retreat, Jim extended his legs a little farther, re-establishing contact with Blair's stockinged foot and upping the ante by sliding his own foot up to Blair's shin. Blair started visibly, and risked a wide-eyed, eyebrows-raised glance at his partner. The younger man then covered by coughing and taking a sip of wine, and went on with his conversation, trying to ignore this latest development. 

Jim felt the tension in Blair's leg, and then the leg was gone, as the younger man casually moved both legs well out of reach, locking his feet behind the legs of his chair. Unfortunately for Blair, this also had the added effect of leaving his legs spread, and all that lay between unprotected. This fell right into Jim's plans. 

Making a pretense of sliding all the way back in his chair as the result a particularly filling meal, Jim slid his lower body forward and unerringly zeroed in on Blair's crotch with his left foot. He pressed firmly, but gently and was answered with a discernible swelling that Jim could feel through his socks and Blair's twill trousers. 

Blair sputtered over whatever word he had been trying to pronounce, and ended a full octave higher than he had started. He added a nervous laugh, for good measure, and had another gulp of wine. 

"Are you okay, honey?" Naomi asked, concerned. She turned to Jim to get his take on Blair's sudden behavior, and instantly grasped the situation. 

"I'm fine, Mom," Blair squeaked, desperately trying to get his voice back down to its own register. "Here, let me start clearing away these dishes," he said, jumping up and rapidly turning away from his mother. He grabbed several bowls and escaped into the kitchen. 

//Oh god oh god oh god. What in the *hell* was all that! Jim making cow eyes and playing footsie under the table? With Mom sitting right there! C'mon Sandburg, think cold thoughts. Ice cubes, snowballs, Antarctica...// 

Blair was moving on autopilot now, emptying dishes into his own red-topped tupperware. In reality, all he wanted to do was unzip his too-tight jeans, free his now throbbing cock and jump Jim's bo-- 

//Whoa! Where is this coming from and why now? I can't *deal* about this now. I need time to *think*! And Naomi couldn't have missed that little performance. Oh Jim, man, you sure can pick your moments. Okay, Blair, relax. Take a deep breath. Good. Stop thinking below the belt. Now, what needs to be done, here. Clean up dinner. Get Mom off to bed. Get Jim off to bed. Get Blair off to bed. Don't think past that, man, or you'll never make it that far!// 

When Blair had composed himself enough to return to the dining room to gather up more dishes, he found Naomi staring at Jim with a look suggesting she was about to have a heart-to-heart with him. Jim was just smiling at her inanely. Blair was very much afraid of what either one might say in this situation, and asked his mother if she would please help him in the kitchen. 

Naomi frowned at him momentarily, wanting to pursue whatever she had in mind with Jim, but smiled in defeat and joined her son in the kitchen. 

"Don't say *anything*, Naomi!" Blair hissed from his station in front of the sink where he began furiously scrubbing at the dishes. "I just want to get this kitchen in order, then I think we should all call it a night." 

"I think that's a good idea, Blair." 

Blair looked at his mother, surprised that she was not going to pursue any of the events of this evening with either himself or Jim. She had evidently changed her mind in the thirty seconds it had taken her to walk to the kitchen. 

Naomi placed the dish in her hand on the counter, walked around to Blair's side, and took his soapy hands in hers. "This is obviously troubling you more than I thought, and I'm going to give you the space you need to process your feelings. You're too upset right now, but maybe we can have a talk tomorrow? But only if you feel up to it, dear. This can just be between you and Jim for now. I can do that. Whatever makes you comfortable, Blair." 

"And I realize now that Jim is in no shape to examine his feelings in any rational manner," Naomi continued. "I promise to leave him alone, tonight! I saw that look you gave me!" She leaned her head in until their foreheads touched, then released Blair's hands and completed the embrace. 

"I'll finish up in here, honey and then I'm off to bed. Why don't you see about putting Jim to bed," she suggested, disengaging and replacing her son at the sink. 

"Are you sure you don't want to trade?" Blair teased, smiling again. "I think you've got the easier job." Naomi just matched his grin and started washing dishes. 

"Seriously now, Mom, I don't have any clue how I'm going to get him upstairs! He's like a ton of bricks when he's dead weight! Maybe I should try to sober him up with some coffee, 'cause I don't think I'm going to pry him out of that chair without his help," Blair stated, staring at the man in question, who was presently in danger of sliding off of his chair. 

"Why don't you try to get him in the shower. Run some cold water on him. That always seemed to work with Pete." 

"Yeah," Blair agreed with a tired grin. "Good idea. That should sober him up enough to get him up to his room." He kissed his mother on the cheek and returned to the dining room. 

"Okay, Big Guy," he said, loudly enough to bring Jim out of his stupor. "Up and at 'em! Time to get you ready for bed." Blair worked to ignore the thoughts those words invoked as he worked at getting his partner into a standing position. 

Blair had just managed to get Jim up and moving when Naomi finished in the kitchen. Making her way to Blair's room, she called, softly, "Goodnight." Then she gave him a little pout of sympathy, and closed the door, as a symbol of her resolve to stay out of her son's space tonight. 

Blair finally coaxed his slightly confused roommate into the bathroom, trying to keep the noise level down for Naomi's sake. Once there, he deposited Jim on the lowered toilet lid, turned around and started drawing water in the shower stall to test its temperature. 

"Whatcha doin', Darlin'?" Jim's comment was somewhat muffled by the sound of the water running from the shower head. Blair started, not entirely willing to believe he had heard what he thought he had just heard. Afraid to consider the consequences, he quickly jumped to the much safer conclusion that Jim was convinced this was some sort of Sentinel test and was reverting to his favorite "scientific" nickname for Blair. 

"Yeah, Big Guy, that's me, Charles Darwin. You just go right on thinking this is a test. And maybe I'll actually get you in that shower." 

When the temperature was just right - not cold enough to cause shock, but definitely not warm - he turned around to find Jim slumped down almost to the point of sliding onto the floor, dopey grin spread across his face. 

Blair decided to strip Jim down to at least his underwear. He began with the red button-down shirt Jim was wearing over his white tee shirt. Jim's attempts to help actually drew the procedure out, as Blair was forced to slap his partner's eager but clumsy hands away from the front of his shirt. Eventually Jim just slouched there, smiling blearily up at Blair, who was doing his best to ignore both the smile and the butterflies it was stirring up in the pit of his stomach. 

Wisely deciding that removing the tee shirt would be just too much trouble, Blair bent slightly and removed Jim's belt quickly and impersonally. That accomplished, he reached down and grasped Jim's wrists, attempting to pull the larger man to his feet to begin removal of his trousers. But once on his feet, momentum carried Jim straight into Blair's arms. Blair somehow managed to keep them both from tumbling backwards into the shower. While Blair was vastly amused at this change to his friend, Jim's lack of cooperation and the sudden contact with that newly desired body were taking their toll. 

"S'nice, Darlin'," Jim slurred, leaning heavily on Blair, who froze, trying to keep his head while dealing with the both the emotional and physical assault. Because there was no denying it this time. Jim had really said "Darling" and *not* "Darwin". 

Blair allowed himself to consider the implications. The younger man could not believe his ears. He had difficulty imagining Jim using such an endearment with Carolyn, let alone himself! //Wow, Jim, you must really be --// Blair stopped himself abruptly, shutting his mind off. He did not want to entertain the possibility that alcohol was the only reason for the declaration. 

In a last ditch effort to remain in control of the situation and not lose himself entirely to sensation and sentiment, Blair decided to leave Jim's pants exactly where they were. He spun the larger man around awkwardly, into the stall and under the running water.  
  


* * *

  


The effect on Jim's body was spectacular. He had been floating in a very pleasant fog of sensory awareness all evening. This was the first time he had allowed himself to drink this much since his senses had reawakened, and he had been unprepared for the experience. His senses were still heightened, but dulled to a level of extreme comfort by the alcohol. Because his brain was incapable of processing so much detailed data, the senses blended together, weaving in and around each other, layer upon layer, until he could not tell whether he was hearing or smelling, seeing or feeling. He was using all five senses, but lacked the ability to differentiate between them. 

This serene state was suddenly shattered by thousands of tiny icicles piercing his consciousness. It took him several seconds worth of intense concentration to isolate the sense of touch as the victim of the attack. The work of focussing on his senses seemed to clear his head partially, and Jim was able to determine his surroundings. He knew he was in the shower stall, in his bathroom, standing under water too cool to be called comfortable. 

Jim shook his head a bit, and cleared away a few more strands of fog from his brain. His level of discomfort reached a dull pain, and he was able to take enough command of his wayward limbs to reach the hot water handle and adjust the temperature more to his liking. A few more seconds, and he could actually remember Blair placing him in this irritating situation. This thought drew his attention back to the young man hovering anxiously just outside the door to the shower. 

"I believe I have *you* to thank for this little ordeal?" he grumbled. Still not entirely in control of himself or his actions, Jim suddenly snaked out an arm and grabbed the trailing edge of Blair's overshirt, pulling his startled Guide up against his body, under the now warm water. 

Jim's body, still recovering from the bone-chilling assault of the cold water, was given a new set of stimuli to consider. This one, its owner reflected, was much more pleasurable. Gaining partial control of his senses, he set himself to the task of investigating that control. He began running through the senses, testing them one by one with the dedication that only comes with inebriation. 

Jim started with the most obviously affected sense, touch. He could feel warm, wet Blair along every inch of the front of his body. He felt the slight tremors running through his partner's body as Blair tried to deal with his own form of sensory overload. Jim decided to ignore, for the moment, the effect this particular stimulus was having on his body in order to continue his examination of his sensory control. 

Jim moved next to hearing. The triphammer beat of Blair's heart and the ragged sound of his breathing rose, competing with the gentle sound of the falling water all around them. All else was lost as unimportant white noise in the background. 

Next was smell. He could smell the alcohol on his own breath, and did not like it, so he threw his sense of smell wider, searching for evidence of Blair. He found it in the smell of damp cotton from shirt and pants, the tangy herbal smell of Blair's shampoo building as water from the shower soaked the back of his hair, and the almost electric smell of anticipation. All of this was overlaid with Blair's unique scent that was almost indescribable but easily recognized. 

Jim limited his sense of sight to his partner's face. He took in those wide, questioning eyes, their incredible blue almost eclipsed by the soft black of dilated pupils. He followed the path of a single drop of water, from one shower dampened curl, down to thick black lashes, where it clung for a moment, forcing Blair to finally blink. 

Only one sense remained to be examined, and Jim had hit upon a way to both test this sense and reassure the man in his arms at the same time. He leaned down slowly and tasted his partner's lips in a most gentle and soothing manner. Just a brief swipe of his tongue across Blair's lip ending in a closed mouth kiss. When Jim detected a lack of response, he forced himself to pull back a fraction to judge Blair's reaction. He belatedly realized that his wine-befuddled brain had refused to consider the fact that Blair might not feel the same way about this action. 

But Jim need not have worried, for Blair hesitated only a moment before reaching up and tugging Jim's head back down for a longer, more involved examination. This time Jim gave his sense of taste free range, losing himself in the other man. 

Blair, having taken the lead, seemed willing to retain it, returning Jim's caress, then deepening it when Jim's mouth opened beneath his. Jim accepted the assault, welcoming Blair's energetic thrusts, and imagining the same onslaught elsewhere on his body. 

His other senses were clamoring for recognition at this point. Jim, spurred on by Blair's enthusiasm, let down all of his barriers. The sensory fugue returned, but far from the calm comfort of before, it was now charged with electricity, impulses from all five senses hitting him at once. 

Jim was close to losing his balance under the rush of sensory stimulation. Needing to regain some stability, he tightened his hold on the smaller man, and turned him slightly, so that Blair was now pressed up against the wall of the shower stall. This had the added benefit of bringing them both together, from chest to knees, once again igniting Jim's sensitive skin. Blair's slide up on the balls of his feet to bring them into perfect alignment was an added stimulus. 

With his now-intensified sense of touch frustrated by the layers of soaked cotton between them, Jim sought to alleviate the problem by removing Blair's shirt. Jim tugged on the soaked piece of green cotton that was Blair's overshirt, but did not get far as Blair's arms were still locked around Jim's neck. But once the younger man realized what Jim was attempting, Blair removed the article of clothing himself, without breaking their kiss. When it came to the tee shirt, however, Blair was forced to concede defeat and broke the kiss just long enough to remove the shirt. Jim took the opportunity to remove his tee shirt as well. 

The two men came together again, now bared to the waist. Jim relished the scratchy brush of Blair's chest hair against his own water-slick chest, savored the caress of rucked nipples and even appreciated the occasional jab of the metal ring in Blair's left nipple. 

His upper body appeased, Jim's next goal was to relieve the growing ache in his groin. He ground his hips into Blair, and was repaid in kind. But this was not enough; his sense of touch demanded skin on skin. 

Jim broke away from their ongoing kiss, to trail his lips and teeth down Blair's neck and chest. He absently cataloged the uneven sound of the younger man's breath, as he neared Blair's nipples. Jim, now on his knees, grasped Blair by the hips and gave the other man's right nipple one swipe of his tongue. Then, mindful of his original intent, he moved on quickly to the left, taking the small hoop of silver between his teeth and pulling gently, but firmly. He was rewarded with a rapid intake of breath and two strong hands urging his head closer to the smaller man's chest. 

"Ah, Jim, yeah man. Oh God!" Blair cried, finding his voice for the first time since this had started. Jim responded to the encouragement, alternating between sampling the cold metallic taste of the ring and the warm musky taste of Blair's nipple. 

To the background music of Blair's steady outpouring of moans and murmurs, Jim resumed his original plan, abandoning nipple and ring, and travelling down the trail of hair leading to Blair's groin. Jim's hands moved in from the sides of Blair's hips, fingers splayed against clenched stomach muscles, and thumbs dipping into the waistband of the now sodden pants to tease the swelling flesh inside. 

Jim tongued Blair's navel, swirling twice before proceeding to the patch of skin directly above the button on the front of the pants. Here Jim stopped, directing warm breaths across Blair's belly as his hands began to unzip the fly on the pants by touch alone. 

Blair was riding on a hedonistic swell of pleasure. He had never had a sexual experience like this before, and that was saying quite a lot. The cascade of warm water, the slight buzz from the alcohol, the fact that his mother was right in the next room. While Blair knew that Naomi would keep her promise to stay in her room, the knowledge that she was here in the condo was enough to add excitement to the experience. 

But what overrode all of the fantasy, was the reality of the man who was currently working to free Blair's almost painful erection from his trousers. This was Jim, his co-worker, his best friend, his lover. Blair savored the word, as he savored the sensations Jim was creating as he blew warm puffs of air across Blair's now supersensitive groin. 

Blair became aware, peripherally, that something was amiss. The warm breaths stopped, and were replaced by a series of sharp tugs on the front of his pants. This was followed by clumsy fingers and nails digging into the tender skin just under the waistband of his cotton pants. 

"Oh! Hold on a minute there, Big Guy," he pleaded, his voice shaking from the combination of pain and pleasure he was experiencing. 

Jim stopped immediately, looking up at Blair's face, trying to determine what had caused his lover to call a halt to the proceedings. Blair took pity on Jim's confusion, and moved his own hand down to the fly of his trousers. 

"Here, let me give you a hand here. It's always easier to take off your own..." Blair trailed off, as he became absorbed in the difficult task of pulling down the zipper on a pair of waterlogged twill pants. His brow creased in frustration as his tugs grew more frantic. Jim decided Blair needed help and tried to add his own strength to that of his partner, to no avail. 

Blair was starting to lose the mood, and the details of the real world began creeping into awareness. The water that had added its music, warmth and lubricative properties to the occasion, had actually run cold some time before, but neither man had noticed. Now, cold dampness threatened the mood on yet another level. 

Blair was determined to preserve what he could of his mind- blowing experience. He leaned into a now befuddled Jim, reached behind the man and turned off the water. Next on the list was getting out of their clammy clothing, then leaving the now chilly bathroom for the comfort of Jim's bedroom. This in mind, Blair placed his hands on either side of Jim's face, and raised the man's head. 

"Hey Casanova. Hold the thought, okay. I think we'll have better luck getting out of these clothes if we get out of the stall. Of all the stupid ideas, putting you in here in your clothes had to be the worst." 

As he spoke, Blair helped his slightly dazed partner up off of his knees and out into the bathroom. Once there, he propped the larger man up against the wall and somehow managed to get the zipper of Jim's black trousers undone far enough to slide them down his legs. It took several more minutes for Blair to coordinate Jim's leg movements so that he could remove the pants altogether, along with socks. Blair hesitated when he came to the shorts, and left them for the moment. 

Jim was starting to list a bit, so Blair urged him back into a sitting position on the toilet. This allowed Blair the freedom to work on his own pants and he finally succeeded in removing the offending garments. He paused, considering Jim's reaction to wet clothing left on the floor overnight; then threw both pairs of pants into the shower stall with the discarded shirts. 

This left only their waterlogged boxers for Blair to deal with. He stood in the center of the bathroom gazing at his charmingly sprawled lover and chewing his lower lip in thought. Up to this point, Blair could still explain their half-dressed state, should his mother put in an appearance. He was helping Jim, got too close, soaked his clothes, end of story. But if the boxers went, so did Blair's last line of defense - physical as well as verbal. He did not really want to think about trying to explain that one to Naomi, not that he thought she would ask. Blair had managed, even after all of this time, to maintain a certain amount of modesty; and he found he had just reached his limit. The boxers would remain until they made it to the sanctuary of the loft. 

Decision made, Blair set about finding the quickest way to get himself and Jim fit to travel upstairs. He grabbed several thick towels from the linen closet and proceeded to dry himself off as much as possible. Blair managed to do a decent job on his own shorts, before turning the problem of Jim. 

"Okay, Big Guy. We've got to do a little something about the moisture problem here. Can't have you leaving a trail from here to the loft, now can we?" Blair said, trying to remain clinical while pressing a towel into Jim's groin in an attempt to soak up the excess water. Matters were not aided by his partner's answering thrusts. 

Blair whipped his hands back as if stung, then lunged forward again when it appeared Jim was going to lose his precarious position. "Whoa there, Jim! You're gonna push yourself right off onto the floor if you're not careful. I'm just trying to dry you off here, man. That's all! Let's wait 'til we get upstairs for anything else, okay? Can you help me out here?" 

"'Kay, Darlin'," Jim promised. 

The only problem was, Jim's version of help was not very helpful. Blair found evading Jim's uncoordinated swipes at the towel difficult enough. But when Jim decided to sit up to allow for better access, Blair had to abandon his own efforts altogether to keep his partner from sliding onto the floor. At this point, Blair was very much afraid that if Jim did end up on the floor, he would remain there for the night. Either that, or Blair would have to enlist Naomi's help, and that was *not* an option for him. 

Blair managed a few more pats with the towel before he gave it up as a lost cause. Jim was no longer dripping on the floor, which was an improvement, and the man did not appear to be in any discomfort. Of course, Blair figured, in Jim's present state, someone could hit the larger man over the head with a two by four with no discernible reaction. 

Clad only in his soggy boxers, Blair went to the door of the bathroom and cautiously peered out into the dimly lit condo. The only light was coming from the lamp next to Jim's bed in the loft. The window to his own room was dark. 

"Thank the gods I had that door installed," Blair murmured to himself. "Now, Big Guy, to get you upstairs without waking Naomi." Blair returned to Jim's side, gazing down at his partner while mentally preparing himself for the ordeal to come. "C'mon, Jim, give me your hands." 

"Sure thing, Darlin', my hands, my heart, my-" 

"Shhhh! C'mon man, keep it down. My *mom* is just next door!" Blair hissed. 

"Oh...yeah. Naomi. You've got a great mom, Sandburg," Jim effused, in an alcohol induced bellow. "Did I tell you that? Of course, mmrfff!" 

Blair ended the string of babble with a well placed hand and held a finger up to his own lips. Jim's eyes tracked the finger, stopping to linger on Blair's lips. This only served to strengthen Blair's resolve to get his wayward partner up to the loft as soon as possible. 

When he was certain Jim was quiet, Blair removed the hand, saying, "Jim. Listen. I know this is difficult for you right now, but I need you to be really quiet. Okay? Think of it as a test. I want you to try and move so silently, that only another Sentinel could pick you up. Can you try that for me?" 

Jim gazed at Blair with a look of utter devotion and stage whispered, "I'd do anything for you, Blair." 

Blair was almost destroyed by that simple statement of loyalty, realizing he'd probably never hear it again. Blinking rapidly and mentally chastising himself for having too much to drink, Blair nodded, and took Jim's hands, helping the larger man to his feet. While he was more steady than he had been before the shower, Jim was still far from sober. Blair quickly moved to Jim's side and ducked under Jim's right arm, letting the man lean heavily on his left shoulder. Blair slung his left arm around Jim's waist to steady him and grasped Jim's right hand in his as it lay across his own shoulder. 

"Quiet. Right?" he reminded. 

Jim nodded his head vigorously in response. 

Carefully, Blair urged Jim out of the bathroom and toward the daunting staircase to the loft. Jim moved slowly and deliberately, mindful of the noise level. At the foot of the stairs, Blair sighed, turned to Jim and mouthed, "Ready?" 

"I think so, Darlin'," Jim said rather loudly, his promise to Blair suddenly forgotten. 

Blair almost jumped out of his skin at the tone. "Jesus Jim! Keep it *down*, will you?" 

"Oops!," Jim said, in a voice that was only marginally quieter. 

Blair decided that speed might just be the better choice here, and encouraged his burden up the stairs. Half way up, Blair felt Jim start to shudder and halted, afraid he'd send them both over the side of the staircase. He peered up anxiously at his partner, trying to determine whether Jim was ill, upset- 

His question was answered when Jim suddenly sagged against the wall and dissolved into laughter, which was rising in pitch. 

"Oh man, Jim. I *never* would have taken you for a giggler. This is *so* not you! Shhh! Stop it! What's so funny? *Quietly*, please, remember Naomi." Blair was so taken by this unseen side of his partner, that he was having trouble keeping quiet himself. At the same time, one part of his brain was processing the scientific implications of the effects of alcohol on the Sentinel brain. 

Jim stopped sniggering long enough to look Blair right in the face, then started up again. Between giggles, he managed to get the words out. "I was just thinking. Here you are saying you want me to keep it *down*, and I thought you'd want me to keep it *up*!" 

Blair closed his eyes and prayed to any listening deity. He prayed that Naomi had not heard that last bit. He was as uninhibited as the next guy, well perhaps a bit more so, but even he had to draw the line somewhere. 

//Only a drunk would think an idiotic joke like that was funny. Man, are you going to regret that in the morning,// Blair thought. A small niggling bit of doubt crept into his mind with that last thought. Just what would Jim regret in the morning? For that matter, would he even remember this night in the light of day. Jim had seemed pretty focussed in the shower. Blair drew a deep breath at the memory. But after this little display on the staircase, Blair was starting to wonder. 

Blair looked back at his room, half-expecting Naomi to charge out of there at any minute to see what was wrong. For all of her promises, she had come on like 'SuperMom' just recently. Blair tightened his grasp on Jim and propelled him up the remaining stairs, lost in thought. 

When they reached the bedroom, Blair used the momentum to carry them to the bed, where he allowed them both to fall face first. Blair rolled over onto his back, having just decided that this should wait until they were both capable of sober thought. He sighed, and lifted himself off of the bed. 

Jim looked up at him from one eye, brow raised in question. Blair picked up Jim's legs and, with great difficulty, maneuvered them onto the bed. Jim cooperated by rolling over, lying back and smiling inanely. Blair decided Jim was getting quite good at that. As Blair reached down to gather up the spread from the foot of the bed, Jim reached out and snapped the waistband of Blair's still damp boxers. 

Blair jumped in surprise. "That just proves it, Jim. You are, like, totally toasted, man," Blair smiled ruefully. "And I'm not willing to take a chance on this thing with you. I don't want to find out tomorrow that all of this was just alcohol talking. So I think we should wait until we've both sobered up. Go to sleep, man," he said, reluctantly turning his back on the vision lying on the bed. 

As Blair turned, he was unexpectedly grabbed around the waist from behind, and fairly flung backward onto the bed. Before the bed had even stopped bouncing following Blair's landing, Jim had pounced on Blair, wrapping him in a tight bearhug. 

"But I don't *want* you to leave, Darlin'," he complained into Blair's left ear. The warm breath caressing his ear and the press of that heavy body on his, began to weaken Blair's resolve to leave this for another time. 

Blair tried to fend Jim off, but his arms were pretty well trapped at his side for the moment. "Jim, man, I want this as much as you do right now. I just think it should wait until you're sure \- Ah-hmm - I guess at least part of you is, uh, sure." Blair gave up his argument when confronted with the evidence of Jim's erection pressing down into his stomach. "Who am I to argue with *that* kind of proof." 

As Jim lowered his head to recommence kissing, Blair met him halfway, difficult as that was immobilized by Jim's arms. Jim loosened his death grip and Blair was able to run his hands up Jim's flanks and around his back. He couldn't stop touching. He couldn't believe Jim's skin could feel so good, warm and smooth. Blair couldn't get enough. That annoying, everpresent scientific part of his brain spoke up briefly, wondering if Blair could be developing his own Sentinel sense.  
  


* * *

  


Jim was aware of the precise moment that Blair's wandering hands found their way down to the waistband of his boxer shorts and slipped inside to skim lightly over the skin of Jim's buttocks. That touch ignited a fire along his already sensitive skin, inciting him to movement in an attempt to ease the delicious tingling. 

Jim's subconscious chose a motion ages old; and his thrusting hips were met in kind by those of his partner, this action mirrored in the play of their tongues in an ongoing kiss. Jim anchored himself with two handfuls of Blair's hair, as Blair slid his legs farther apart, bringing them that much closer. 

But Jim needed more, more touch, more friction, more Blair. He was vaguely aware of his partner's attempts to free them both of their boxer shorts. As much as his sense of touch cried out for skin on skin, memories of his failure in the shower made Jim unwilling and unable to stop his relentless rhythm. One part of his overloaded brain prayed that Blair would understand this consuming need. 

Blair's struggles with their shorts eventually ceased, as the younger man put all his effort into meeting Jim's now-frantic thrusts. As the man beneath him arched his back in a bid to bring them closer, Jim could once again feel the sharp prod of the ring in Blair's left nipple. He was both inflamed and infuriated by the sensation of cock on cock, separated by a layer of scratchy soft cotton. 

Just when Jim thought he could not possibly last under the onslaught, Blair went one step farther. The younger man slid his hands back under Jim's waistband, exploring the curves of Jim's ass and encouraging Jim's endeavors. Jim's nerves crackled as a questing finger brushed against the entrance to his body, and he ground his hips into Blair one last time and climaxed, warm wet fluid soaking into the fabric of his shorts. The last functioning portion of his brain registered Blair's shuddering climax beneath him. Jim had just enough time to whisper, "Blair", before darkness enfolded him in its warmth and security.  
  


* * *

  


"Oh God, man. This is just not quite the way I wanted this first time to go. Jim, can you move a little, you're starting to feel like the proverbial ton of bricks...Jim...Hey buddy..." With a sick feeling, Blair realized Jim had passed out and was now snoring in his left ear. 

All of the earlier guilt about leading a drunken man astray came back and hit Blair full force. He labored to excavate himself from under the dead weight on top of him, and finally succeeded. But when Blair rolled to his side and tried to leave the bed, a muscular arm reached out with uncanny accuracy and pinned him. Mumbling softly, Jim rolled onto his side, pulled Blair back against himself, sighed once into Blair's hair, and fell back into his coma-like state. 

//Now what do I do?// Blair though helplessly. //How could I *do* this? Take advantage of a friend - my *best* friend - like that? What have I done? Just ruined the best thing that ever happened to me, over a case of raging hormones! He's gonna kick my ass out the door for sure tomorrow.// Intense emotion, exhaustion and the remains of the alcohol finally took their toll, and Blair curled himself into a ball, turned his head into his pillow and wept silently until he eventually fell asleep.  
  


* * *

  


Jim fought his way up through the layers of fog until he began to sense the world around him. Keeping his eyes tightly closed against sunlight he felt along his bare shoulder, Jim's senses registered that he was lying down, probably in his own bed, and wrapped snugly around another body. His sense of smell supplied the identity - Blair. Then that meant that the cobwebby substance clinging to his face would have to be his partner's hair. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of Blair's shampoo, and something else, musky and masculine- 

His eye lids flew up as recollection of the precise significance of that smell tumbled into his awareness. Jim tensed a little, and the small movement woke his partner, who froze instantly. Jim waited a few moments for Blair to confirm his wakeful state, but the other man remained still, trying to regulate his breathing. 

"Blair, as a Guide, you should know it's no good trying to fool a Sentinel. I know you're awake, your heart-rate skyrocketed and you're shaking like a leaf. Talk to me. Please." 

Blair let out a shaky sigh, pushed his hair out of his eyes and struggled against Jim's hold to rise. Jim let him go instantly; trapping the man had never been his intent. Blair pushed himself unsteadily off of the bed and headed for the staircase without looking back at Jim. 

Realizing that something was really wrong with his partner, Jim leapt off of the bed despite the queasy feeling in his stomach this movement produced, and was at the man's side in an instant, radiating concern. He reached out and took hold of Blair's arm gently and was genuinely surprised when Blair flinched at the touch. 

"I've gotta use the can, Jim. Lay off," Blair mumbled in a voice cracked with emotion. He vehemently removed his arm from Jim's grasp. 

Jim leaned over the railing, reaching around Blair to put his arm across the top of the stairs, barring the way, but leaving enough room for Blair to escape if he really wanted to. Blair halted, and Jim took this as his cue to place his hands on his Guide's shoulders and turn him around so he could look Blair in the face. He desperately needed to know what his partner was thinking. 

When Blair refused to raise his head from where it hung dejectedly, Jim cupped the other man's chin and lifted his head gently into the light. Blair had managed to stop the embarrassing tears, but evidence of their existence remained, from the redness in his eyes, to the tracks down his face. Of all the reactions to the events of last night that had run through Jim's mind, this was not one of them. He was taken aback and it must have showed on his face, because he felt Blair tense, preparing to bolt. 

"Hey, hey, Chief. Just calm down here. We obviously need to talk, right? Okay. Somehow, I think if we don't do this now, we never will. So come back over here and sit down with me and we'll discuss this. All right?" Jim asked, putting his hands up in a non-threatening gesture, palms out. He needed the decision to be entirely Blair's. 

Blair wiped a tired hand across his face, sighed heavily and held his arms out at his side in capitulation. When Jim backed toward the bed, still facing Blair, the other man followed, eyes drawn to the floor. 

Blair sat wearily on the bed and waved an arm vaguely at his face, saying, "Uh, sorry about the waterworks, man. I'm starting to feel like I'm in the middle of a Hallmark commercial, or something." Then he sank wearily to the mattress, propped up against a pillow at the head of the bed. 

The corner of Jim's mouth crept up at Blair's apology. Humor from Blair was a good sign at this point. He settled himself a good distance away near the foot of the bed, and waited patiently to see if Blair had anything else to add. 

When Blair remained silent, staring through - rather than at - the bedsheets, Jim was struck at the strangeness of the situation. He had only known Blair to be at a loss for words on one previous occasion, and that involved the loss of Maya. Blair had refused all of Jim's attempts to include him in the dinner he and Drennan were enjoying, and remained in his room until the following morning. After that, Blair had never mentioned the event again in front of Jim. It had been one of the few things Jim could remember that Blair had declined to share with him, and he still felt the hurt at the memory. Blair was a very open, very giving person, and when he kept something to himself, Jim felt almost cheated. 

Jim realized that Blair was probably prepared to sit there for the rest of the morning, and he desperately wanted to get this all out in the open before Naomi stirred. And even though he had managed to forget for now the nagging headache and upset stomach resulting from his excesses of the night before in the face of Blair's need, Jim suspected he would have to deal with them eventually. 

Jim thought he had a pretty good idea what Blair's problem might be, so he chose his words carefully, and began. "Blair. I'm not sure what the problem is, and if you don't want to talk about it, I guess I 'hear' that," he joked feebly. Blair smiled weakly, but did not look up. Jim continued, "Then I have a few things I need for you to know. First of all, I remember everything about last night. Secondly I'm not ashamed of any of it, except for falling asleep on you. And possibly that attempt at humor on the stairs." 

Blair looked up at this, a smile reluctantly spreading across his face and actually reaching his eyes for a moment. "That was *really* not funny, Jim. I never expected that sort of a thing from you, man." 

"Well, if it's any consolation, Chief, neither did I," Jim said ruefully. Then he wiped all trace of amusement from his face, and stated, solemnly, "But everything else, Blair. Kissing you in the shower, making love with you on the bed, spending the night with my arms wrapped around you -- all of it. I was fully aware of what I was doing and loving every minute of it, no matter how strung out I got. Even if it didn't seem like it at the time," he added sincerely. 

Blair met his gaze, obviously trying to come to some sort of decision. He closed his eyes briefly, then reached out a hand to Jim, saying, "C'mon up here Big Guy, will ya? I know you've got Sentinel hearing, but I still feel like I should be shouting to you all the way down there." Jim went to hands and knees and crawled up the mattress to rest against another pillow, facing Blair. He resisted the urge to snuggle up to the man, giving Blair his space while he dealt with his feelings. 

Blair sat up, crossing his legs under himself in his accustomed lotus position, and pushed his stray hair back behind one ear. "I...Jeez, I can't believe this. This is so *not* me! I guess this just means too much to me. I don't know how to begin," he confessed. He looked pleadingly at Jim. 

Those eyes did Jim in, as usual. He knew he could never admit this to Blair, who would use it shamelessly against him, but Jim would do just about anything for the man when he turned on the eyes. For all his protests, Jim knew he usually did go along with Blair in the long run. Now was no exception. 

"Why don't you start with the most obvious thing." Jim pointed to Blair's reddened eyes, causing Blair to blush furiously. 

"Hey, I said I was sorry about that, man. It's just that I was so afraid you'd be angry this morning, about what I did to you, you know. I mean you're my best friend and all, and I had no right to take advantage of a situation like that. I thought I'd ruined everything, that you'd throw me out on my ear. And when I thought I was going to lose you, I...I...just lost it, you know?" Blair asked, having recovered his usual garrulous mode of speech. 

Jim merely nodded, prompting Blair to continue. He would address the inaccuracies in Blair's conclusions when the young man had reached the end of his stream of thought. 

Blair resumed, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, this means so much to me, Jim. *You* mean so much to me. You've been my best friend for over a year now, but I never realized until last night, that it was more than that. Well, I guess I realized, but I didn't think about it, you know? I mean, it's one thing to be this student of human nature and all, but it's another thing altogether when it's your own nature under the microscope. Know what I mean? I'm usually much more in tune with my feelings and motivations, but this just blindsided me. I mean, I knew it was there, but I was, like, ignoring it or something. Like I didn't want to think about it, and make it real or it would disappear. I...I...," he spluttered out, staring into space. 

Jim, praying he was reading this correctly, decided it was his turn to guide his partner and help Blair make that final leap. He reached out and drew a finger down the side of Blair's cheek, drawing the man's attention back from the void. "What, Blair? Tell me what you're feeling. I need to know, because I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love with you." 

Blair froze for a minute, then a look of pure relief crossed his face, followed by sheer delight. "Oh wow, you have *no* idea how much I needed to hear you say that! I've been so afraid this thing would be one sided, that you wouldn't feel the same way. I mean, I almost freaked when I saw you and Naomi in bed together. I thought you were attracted to her, or something. What with the way you've been acting around her lately. And, you know I'd never get in Mom's way. She's free to live her own life. But I just wanted to get all primal, scream 'He's mine!', and drag you off by the hair. Well, I guess that part would have been a bit tricky, but you get the picture!" 

Jim laughed outright this time, the image of Blair trying with all his dogged persistence to grab hold of Jim's recently cut hair and drag him anywhere fixed in his mind. 

Blair sobered again. "Seriously. It did something to me, seeing the two of you like that. And then that look you gave me. I though I was going to disgrace myself in front of my mom, and all. And that's another thing I haven't quite figured out. I'm not usually this uptight about things as far as Naomi is concerned. But this, this is just so different." 

Jim had to ask the next question, even though he was fairly certain he knew the answer. He needed to help his Guide work through his emotions so they could move on from there. "Is it because I'm a man?" 

Blair looked over at Jim, and answered too quickly for it to be a lie. "Oh, no way man, I mean that's never bothered me before." Too late, he realized what he had said. Blair looked up guiltily. "Uh, there have been others. Men, that is. Not many, but-" 

Jim shut Blair up with an upraised hand. "No need for a confession, Blair. Whatever happened in the past is past. As far as I'm concerned, we start clean right here. If you need to tell me about it, fine. I'm here to listen, but I just want you to know it's unnecessary." 

Blair considered this, then said, "No, I don't really need to bring this up. It doesn't mean anything to me now. But I think you have the right to know, man. Okay, consider this dropped. Where were we?...Oh, yeah. Um, it's not so much that you're a man, Jim. I think it's just that it's you. You're special to me. A lot more special than any of the others. I tend to rush into relationships before I've even made friends with people. But you and I, this was different. I was your friend long before I realized I had feelings for you. And what we have is for you and me alone, not the rest of the world. Not even Naomi. Do you get what I'm saying here?" 

"Yeah, Chief, it's coming through loud and clear. And I agree 100 percent." Jim paused here, giving the moment and the sentiment the respect it deserved. 

"Now, about some of this other stuff. Where do you get off taking blame for last night, Professor?" Jim reached out and gave a strand of Blair's hair a yank to help take some of the sting out of the admonishment. "I'm not exactly the village maiden you've led astray, you know. I'm not in the habit of being led anywhere I don't *want* to go," Jim said, punctuating the suggestive tone with a searing glance. 

Blair had the grace to blush, but recovered quickly. "Will you stop it, man? First tears, now this! I'm never going to live any of this down. Must be the effects of the alcohol." Blair made the instantaneous transformation to scientist at his last remark. "Speaking of which, what was happening in here last night," Blair asked, tapping a finger on the side of Jim's head. 

//Oh shit, here it comes. I was waiting for this. The Mad Scientist on the loose again.// Jim covered his face in his hands and leaned back on the pillow muttering, "No, no, no." 

"Oh, c'mon, man, this could be important. You were obviously processing something in the shower. I mean, you just stood there staring at me for, like, five minutes or so. I thought you were zoning on me, Big Guy." 

"Wait a minute, here," Jim said, putting out his hand to cut Blair off, and pushing himself back up on an elbow. "You mean to tell me, that while I'm working my ass off trying to seduce you, you're standing there thinking about your thesis? Well, that says a lot for my technique, now, doesn't it? Thanks for the ego stroke, there, Chief." 

Jim lay back again, demurely folding his hands over his stomach, waiting for the inevitable reaction. Blair did not disappoint him. He fairly pounced from his sitting position to lying full length along Jim's body. Jim gave a startled whuff as an energetic Blair landed squarely on his midsection. He had just managed to move his hands out of the way, but had no time to brace himself. Jim had expected a reaction, but forgot to take into account Blair's usual enthusiastic mode of expression. 

Looking up at Blair, Jim moved his hands up to pull the long, still damp curtain of hair back out of his partner's face, wanting to see Blair's eyes. This accomplished, he just stared, memorizing every detail of a face he already knew better than his own. He was reluctant to make a move again, still wanting, needing his Guide to know that the choice was entirely Blair's. He was well aware of his physical presence, and did not want to trade on it, vaguely aware that he may have done just this the previous night. 

Blair returned his gaze, slowly lowered his head until their noses brushed, then whispered, "It's okay to make a move, Big Guy. I think I know why you've been so hesitant this morning, and I really appreciate it, man. But I want this to be equal, always equal." 

Jim never ceased to be amazed by the way his Guide seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. Maybe there was something more to the Sentinel-Guide link. //Oh lord, now he's got *me* doing it!// Jim thought. 

Blair's words had also dredged guilty memories of Jim's self- centered performance of last night up to the surface. So instead of taking Blair up on his offer right away, Jim said, "Blair, about that equality. Last night-" He was cut off by a soft, fleeting kiss. 

"Shhh. No more about last night. Not just now. We can talk all we want later. But, don't get me wrong, we will talk about this, just later," Blair promised. 

As permission now been given twice, Jim gave up all thoughts scientific and guilty, and leaned up to bring their lips together. He abandoned his hold on Blair's hair, letting it fall around his own face, using his freed hands to pull his partner closer. As Blair's mouth opened against his, Jim sought out the other man's tongue, inviting a gentle duel. True to Blair's wishes, they shared control of the kiss. 

When they broke for air, Jim became aware of an uncomfortable scratchy sensation in the area of his groin. The sudden reminder that neither one of them had made it out of his boxer shorts last evening put a bit of a damper on Jim's ardor. Blair looked down at him, worried. 

Passion forgotten for the moment, Blair blurted out, "What's wrong, Jim. Did I do something? Are you having a difficulty with your senses? Did the alcohol have any side effects you didn't anticipate? You know, we never did any tests involving the effects of alcohol on your senses. Are you okay? Tell me what you feel." He had switched to full scientist mode by now. 

Jim reached out and snapped Blair's waistband again, to stop the flood of words. "My senses are just fine, Doc. It's just, well..." He tugged on the waistband of Blair's shorts and grimaced. Blair looked puzzled for a moment, then realized what Jim was trying to say. "It feels awful, Blair. I'm sorry. It just kind of killed the passion, there. I think I need a shower." 

At the word 'shower', Blair's head snapped up, and he got a positively evil look in his eyes. Grinning wickedly, he said, "That may not be a bad idea, there, Jim. But maybe I should join you. You know, make sure you don't have any lingering effects from the alcohol. Could be dangerous." 

"I don't know, Chief," Jim said, his face of picture of seriousness, "I'm not sure I like your idea of a comfortable temperature." As he spoke, he rolled over, dislodging Blair, and hopped up off of the bed, preparing to make a break for the bathroom. "And as it's my idea, I get the bathroom first!" Jim threw over his shoulder as he reached the stairs. 

Jim heard Blair bounce off of the bed and hit the floor running, chasing him down the stairs. Jim really did need a shower, as the scratchy-sticky feeling in his shorts was very uncomfortable, but he was more than willing to share. He just was not about to let Blair know that, yet. In fact, Jim was eager to experience his new lover without the encumbrance of alcohol. 

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned toward the hallway to the bathroom and froze. Seconds later, Blair plowed into him from behind. 

"Hey man, what's up-" 

Jim turned slightly to address his partner, but the horrified look on Blair's face told Jim he had just remembered Naomi's presence, too. Jim held up his hand, asking for silence, then dared to invade Naomi's privacy with his Sentinel hearing. He was only seeking confirmation that she was either sleeping or awake, but was puzzled to find no trace of her in Blair's room, or the whole condo for that matter. Now that he thought about it, Jim only registered two heartbeats - his and Blair's, both going a mile a minute. 

"Jim, what's wrong, man. Talk to me," Blair pleaded. 

Jim was now scanning the room for clues to Naomi's whereabouts, but took the time to answer. "Nothing, Blair. She's gone, that's all. Hang on a minute." 

Jim made his way to the dining room table, still covered in its bright table cloth. It was Jim's turn to blush now, as he remembered his activities under that very cloth last night. He obviously had a few more things of his own to work through, the irrational jealousy he had felt being high on the list. 

Jim picked up the folded piece of paper from where it was propped against a candle holder left over from the night before. It was addressed to Blair, and as he passed it to his partner, he caught a whiff of Naomi's scent on the paper. 

Blair looked at his name written on the paper, then up at Jim, as if seeking permission to open his own letter. Jim raised his eyebrows and nodded his head toward the letter in encouragement. 

Blair drew in a breath, then unfolded the paper and began to read. Jim watched the parade of emotions cross his lover's face: relief, embarrassment, and finally amusement. He looked up and handed the note to Jim, who took it and read. 

> Sweetie, 
> 
> I've still got a bit of processing to do regarding your police work, and my retreat will be the perfect place. So, I've decided to get an early start this morning. 
> 
> I guess we'll have to postpone our talk until I get back. I can stop in next weekend, on my way back. If that's convenient, of course. If not, it will keep. 
> 
> In the meantime, have a beautiful time exploring your new happenings, and remember that I love you, I'm happy for you and that I'm very proud of you. 
> 
> Please tell Jim goodbye for me and thank him for sharing his space with me. I think I'll need to have a talk with him, as well. Now just wipe that look off of your face, Blair! I promise not to ask him what his intentions are or anything as establishment as that! 
> 
> Well, I must get going. I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye in person, but I felt it might be better this way. I'll call you next weekend. 
> 
> Peace and love, 
> 
> Mom 
> 
> P.S. Don't worry, dear, I made a sandwich for breakfast, and took some of the leftover casserole with me for lunch. 

Jim looked up to find Blair watching him, waiting for him to finish reading. Both broke into smiles simultaneously. 

"I know she knew, and all, but it was a little embarrassing for her to point it out!" Blair said rolling his eyes. 

"You think you've got it bad, *I'm* the one she wants to have the 'mother to prospective son-in-law' conversation with!" Jim quipped. 

"Oh, hey Jim, I'll, uh, have a little talk with her about that. Don't worry, I'll keep her off your back, man." 

"No need, Chief. I can handle myself, even against an opponent as tough as Naomi Sandburg! I was just teasing. I think we should have that talk, you know. I need to know just what I'm getting myself into here." 

"Wait just a minute here, Jim. You are, like, *not* going to ask my mom any more personal questions about me. Okay? That is *totally* unfair, man! Besides, I think you two covered enough of my past history last night while I was at the lecture-" 

Jim cut Blair off mid-tirade with one blinding smile that turned into a laugh that Jim tried to hide behind one hand. Blair, still unused to Jim as a giggler, stopped in his tracks and just stared, shaking his head. 

Jim schooled his features into mock-serious and said, looking deeply into Blair's eyes, "Do you know you're beautiful when you're on a tear like that, Chief?" 

Blair, momentarily transfixed by the look in Jim's eyes, snapped back to reality as his mind registered the comment. That was all it took for Jim, who made a fast escape in the direction of the bathroom before Blair could make a grab for him. 

Blair hesitated, letting Jim reach the safety of the bathroom, before he began to stroll casually after his partner. "Yeah, you just get that water running, lover. I'd give that performance in the shower last night a C+ on the basis of your 'conclusion', man. Your 're-write' upstairs was a big improvement, but I still recommend a thorough study session, followed by repeated practice until you get it right." 

"Anything you say...Darlin'!", floated up on a cloud of warm steam to greet Blair as he entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him.  
  


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